


Spring Comes Again

by Happy_Schmuell, roaroftheninth



Series: The Edges of Things AU [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti (mentioned) - Freeform, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Schmuell/pseuds/Happy_Schmuell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaroftheninth/pseuds/roaroftheninth
Summary: Lip and Ian talk about what family means. (Also featuring Mickey letting Ian have his way, of course.)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Lip Gallagher, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: The Edges of Things AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957516
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92





	Spring Comes Again

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the events of The Edges of Things, but you don't have to have read that to follow this.

It was shaping up to be a warm day, for spring. Lip had set up the circular saw next to the small pile of lumber that he had scrounged up, just outside the back door, and just those few minutes of activity had prompted him to take off the long-sleeved shirt he had been wearing over his tank top. He had a cup of coffee and a carton of cigarettes sitting on the top step, but he was trying to pace himself ( _no cigarettes until you cut the stringers_ , was his current goal). Home renovations made him want to chain smoke. Quitting remained a work in progress.

Grabbing his measuring tape from the toolbox, he couldn't help but glance up at the house for a moment. It felt too quiet. Tami had taken Fred to the mall for new shoes and, probably, some time alone. Contrary to how he might once have felt, having time on his own without any distractions left Lip feeling a little bit at loose ends, nowadays. He didn't really like it. He also knew better than to really look that feeling in the face, and acknowledge it. Couldn't a guy miss his family? That was normal, right?

He began to busy himself with making measurements, knowing that it was better when he didn't leave himself room to think too much. 

At first, when Ian arrived at Lip's place (yeah, it was Tami's, too, but for whatever reason, Ian thought of it as 'Lip's'), he thought no one was home. No one answered the door when he knocked and he couldn't hear the TV or Fred inside playing. He knew Lip was off that day, thought he'd swing by for some brother time while Mickey worked, but this was just proof, he figured, that he should text first. As he started back down the steps, though, he heard the _whirr_ of a saw starting up in the backyard and made his way around the side of the house. 

When he saw Lip at work, he made a wide arc with his steps, making sure his brother saw him - he wasn't about to get blamed for Lip losing a limb - and gave a wave. 

"Whatcha working on?" he asked when Lip had quieted the saw again. "Tami out somewhere with Fred?"

Lip pushed his safety goggles up onto his head. "Yeah, we realized last week that the only shoes that still fit him are his winter boots," he explained. "She's taking him out to get some running shoes. Apparently being barefoot doesn't stop him from ripping around the house and the yard like he's possessed by demons, so we couldn't really put it off. Would be just my luck if he stepped on a nail or something from all the renos."

Grabbing the piece of wood he had just cut, Lip took it over to where he was beginning to build the frame of the deck, nodding his head to indicate that Ian should follow. "I'm making a little deck for Fred to play on. Just big enough for his sand box and some of his toys. Tami's been on my ass about the yard being full of needles, but since we back onto the alley there's not a lot I can do about that besides build an eight-foot fence around the whole property."

"Nice," Ian said. "Never had anything cool like a deck growing up. You want some help?" 

Even as he asked it, he was already wandering a little closer to all of the wood that Lip had stacked. Lip was better with this kind of thing than he was, at least seeing the big picture part. But Ian could hammer and cut with the best of them. 

"Uh, yeah, sure. Here." Lip took his measuring tape out of his back pocket and handed it to Ian, followed by the safety goggles. "I wrote down the lengths that I need on that piece of paper under my coffee cup. You measure and cut, I'll fit the pieces together."

He tried to remember the last time that he had spent an afternoon with just Ian, when the world wasn't crashing down around anyone's ears. It had been a while. Lip wasn't going to turn down the opportunity. 

"I'm just killing time until Mick's home so you're keeping me from sitting around eating fucking Doritos all day,” Ian said, pulling the goggles on over his head.

"You really sit around and eat Doritos all day when Mickey's at work?"

"Nah, not usually." Ian eyed the paper Lip had handed him for a moment, then looked over the wood and selected a plank. "Just bored today and haven't seen you in about a million years. Wanted to make sure you were still breathing. This whole me being married and you being ghetto married with a kid thing really eats into our time to smoke and shoot the shit."

"Yeah." Lip smiled faintly at that. Life, in general, had gotten in the way of them smoking and shooting the shit for a long time now. "Been, uh. You know. Keeping busy. Being out of the house, without Fiona around, everyone kinda drifting their own way... it's a lot different than it used to be."

He knelt down with the cordless drill in hand, fitting a screw into place. "Not saying it's a bad thing. Just different."

"Different, yeah. It definitely is that." 

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, not bothering to make themselves heard over the sound of the saw as Ian cut one piece of wood to Lip's measurement, then another. 

Then, after turning off the saw again, Ian pushed the goggles up, using wiping the sweat from his forehead as an excuse to stop for a minute. 

"So, how are things here? Not bad, just different, yeah, I heard that, but. How are they really?"

Lip finished putting in a screw before he answered, to give himself time to think. "Uh. I don't know. It's - alright. It's not perfect, but what is?" 

He drilled in a second screw, a couple of inches above the first one. "I think, uh. Tami is starting to wonder if I'm just keeping busy so that I don't drink. You know. Pulling long shifts at the shop. Looking after Fred. Renos on the house. Not a lot of time for anything else." 

Ian didn't say the first thing that came to mind. 

He and Mickey were still firmly in the honeymoon stage. Yeah, they'd been married well over a year, but a large portion of that had been separated when Mickey had lost his memory. And while they had squabbles, sure, things were good. Better than. Things were fucking great. Even the usual issues that came up - household things and paying bills and the like - were no big deal. He was really fucking happy. 

But something told him that replying that to Lip when he insinuated nothing was perfect wouldn't help. 

"So... is she right?" he asked.

"What?"

Lip looked like he hadn't really expected Ian to ask, but then his expression shifted a little as he realized that of course he should have. Just because they hadn't spoken a lot in the last little while didn't mean that they weren't still accustomed to being honest with each other. He hesitated, glancing down at his work again. 

"I don't know. Maybe? It's hard, you know, you get used to a routine and then you can't... really figure out what to do without it. But. Does it matter? Should it?"

"Could matter, I guess,” Ian said. “There's, like, being stuck in a routine and then there's just not wanting to get un-stuck. Getting stuck on purpose." 

Lip wasn't married but in a lot of ways he and Tami lived like they were. Plus they had Fred. Which meant that while Ian would be honest and always listen, he would also choose his words carefully. Lip didn't have to love Mickey, but Ian would kick his ass if he said anything too sharp about him. So he was going to give his brother the same respect. 

"Do you think she's worried you're avoiding the booze or, like. Avoiding her? You know how girls are sometimes." 

"Well.” Lip considered that. “I guess if you think that someone's permanently a hair trigger from falling off the wagon, that's a concern in and of itself. We've got a kid. And a house."

He stood up and went to retrieve his coffee. He was absolutely itching to smoke, but he held off. "And, well. Maybe she thinks that if I've gotta work this hard to stay sober, something must be wrong." 

Rather than simply standing and talking, Ian picked up the tape measure again and started measuring and marking the wood. "You, uh... you keep saying what she thinks or what you think she thinks. _I_ think you're avoiding what I asked. _Are_ you a hair trigger away from falling off? Is that why you're keeping busy?"

Lip watched him for a few seconds. "I don't know," he said, at last. "I'm still going to meetings. Some weeks more than others. I think it helps, but... I kind of don't want to find out what's gonna happen if I take some down time. It feels safer to stay busy."

He set down his coffee and took up his drill again. "I know you need a routine, too. Does it feel like that?" 

"Not exactly." Ian pulled the safety glasses off, rubbing his forehead. He wasn't about to go home with big red marks on his face. 

"It helps, don't get me wrong. But it isn't the routine itself that does it. The routine keeps me from over doing things, or getting too tired. And, you know... Mickey is even more important than the routine, when it comes down to it. Neither of us are big on sitting down and talking about feelings but we sorta have to. I have to be able to tell him when I'm feeling off and I have to be willing to listen when he comes to me and tells me he's seeing shit I don't notice. If you and Tami are gonna, like, make things work, maybe you should just talk to her? Stop guessing how she's feeling, man."

Lip didn't say anything for a long moment, hands busy, though it was clear that he was mulling over what Ian had said. Ian wasn't wrong to say that he and Tami hadn't exactly had a lot of heart to hearts lately. Then again, they hadn't really started out as that couple either. 

Though if Ian and Mickey could figure it out, maybe anyone could.

Lip hoped that Ian appreciated the irony. "Who would've thought Mickey Milkovich would turn out to have key communication skills, huh?" 

"I'm not saying he's skilled." Ian laughed. "I'm saying he'll come and tell me, 'hey, you've only wanted cereal for dinner two days in a row, you need something?'. But, yeah, it does the job. Do you guys ever just have time for the two of you? Between work and Fred and two of the most time-sucking families in modern history, you ever just hang out together?"

"Not a lot," Lip admitted. "Not lately. We were doing some projects together on the house for a few months, but she's been back at work at the salon for a while now. Mostly if we do spend time together, it's just watching TV until one or both of us passes out." 

He came over to collect two of the boards that Ian had cut. "I don't know, when I say it out loud, it kind of sounds like I am avoiding her." 

Ian raised an eyebrow in a move he had most likely learned from Mickey. 

"You think?" he said dryly. "Look, I gotta ask it, okay, so don't get mad. Do you even want to be with her?" 

It was a risky question to ask but Lip had a history of not knowing when to walk away. 

"Do I what?" Lip stopped working to look over at him. "Look, she's not a casual fuck, Ian. She's the mother of my kid." 

Going through a rough patch in a relationship wasn't the same as wanting to bail - especially now that there was a kid involved. Lip was no different than the rest of the Gallaghers when it came to his commitment to family. "She's not easy sometimes, but, I don't know. I kinda like it that way. I'm not that easy sometimes, either. That doesn't mean either of us are gonna ditch."

"Hey." Ian held his hands up, palms facing Lip. He wasn't there to fight. "I know she's not a casual fuck, I wasn't sayin' that. Even if you weren't together, she'd still be family because she's Fred's mom. All I was asking was if you're here - if you're both here - just for the kid or for the kid and each other." 

"Nah. It's not just about the kid, but, at the same time... it's always gonna be at least a little bit about the kid." Lip decided he was going to have that cigarette after all. Reaching for the carton on the back steps, he lit one with practiced ease. 

"We probably wouldn't have had a kid on purpose. Not yet. But we did. So we got extra shit to figure out, and the stakes are higher." He shrugged a little. "Shit gets complicated. But at a certain point, you gotta grow up. Some things are hard but they still matter and you gotta do 'em anyway. At least that's the silver lining for you and Mickey, huh? No accidents." 

Ian frowned. "Yeah, great silver lining. Gay and certifiably crazy with a prison record, living on the South Side. We probably won't be able to have kids at all. But sure, you being too fucking stupid to use a condom is way harder." 

He hadn't meant to go off, and he knew that Lip hadn't meant anything, really, by his comment. But since he and Mickey had been talking about having kids, Ian had been thinking about it a lot more, and thinking about it meant accepting that it probably wouldn't - couldn't - happen. 

Lip watched him for a few seconds, then offered up the carton of cigarettes. "I didn't know you were thinking of having kids," he said, by way of apology. Of course he had, on some level, known that Ian wanted a family of his own as much as any of them, but he hadn't known that Ian had talked about it specifically with Mickey. "Can't wait to see Mickey with a baby."

Ian hesitated but accepted the peace offering, taking the carton and getting out a smoke for himself, having to borrow Lip's lighter. 

"Yeah, he knows I want them. And we've been... talking. If it were as easy as an 'accident' we'd probably have one now, but..." He shrugged. Obviously it wasn't that easy. "Mickey's gonna be great," he said, still an edge of warning in his voice. "Like I said, we've talked about it." 

"I'm not giving him shit," Lip said, and meant it. "It's just hard to picture, is all. Then again, a few years ago, if you'd asked me who in our neighbourhood would be in a more stable, normal, long-term relationship than most people we know - family included - I wouldn't have put any money on Mickey. So what do I know, huh?"

He could tell that it was a prickly subject for Ian, so he was doing his best to walk back any negative implications that Ian had obviously picked up in what he'd said. 

"You think you'd still be with her, if it wasn't for Fred?" Ian asked, circling back.

Lip flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and looked away, up at the houses that backed onto the alleyway. "I don't know," he said, and it felt honest. "I do love her. I think... I don't know. I've definitely stuck around in relationships longer than I should, before. But sticking around and being checked out versus sticking around and making an effort are different things. So I think I gotta do the second one. You know, for Fred. But for me and Tami, too."

Putting the pretense of helping on hold for now, Ian sat down on the ground, taking his time with the cigarette. 

"You gotta talk to her, then, man," he said. "It's so fucking annoying when Mickey asks me if I've taken my meds, but it's way worse when he just watches me to see if I'm okay. If she's worried about your drinking and you don't talk about it, you'll end up blowing up at her. We might be fucking Gallaghers but sometimes we have to - what did you say? - grow up and handle shit in a mature way, not the Gallagher way."

"Yeah," Lip agreed. "Yeah, I know. It's like, uh... we got used to just, you know. Taking care of ourselves. But you can't really be in a relationship with someone and not let them help." He paused, then added, faintly teasing: "Look at you, giving sage relationship advice. You sure you're feeling okay?"

"Ah, fuck you," Ian replied, but he was smiling now. "Even with Mickey almost dying, we've got the most successful and healthy relationship of any Gallagher family member in history. Probably any Milkovich, too." He paused. "Most _definitely_ any Milkovich, too." The only family that made the Gallaghers look half-decent in comparison when it came to shit parents and shitty lives was the Milkovich clan. 

"It's just that I didn't have a choice, you know? I straight-up can't stay healthy on my own. Either I do something stupid or my brain misfires or I do something stupid _because_ my brain is misfiring. So to be with him, I had to get okay with taking his help. And you're the exact same way. Frank and Monica fucked us up and then we sort of carried on the job ourselves. You ain't gonna make it if you don't let her help." 

"Hey, I thought we agreed we weren't gonna turn out like Frank and Monica?" Lip half-smiled, mouth twisting up on one side. As he glanced over at his brother, he added, "Hey. I know it took you a minute to figure out what you were gonna do, you know, about needing medication or whatever."

That was maybe a _small_ oversimplification, Ian thought, but he didn't interrupt.

Stubbing out his cigarette, Lip reached for another one. Apparently he had exceeded his reserve of willpower for the day when it came to smoking. "And, uh. For what it's worth, I'm glad you have Mickey around. I think it's good that you don't have to worry about that shit by yourself. And that you let him help. Monica never let anyone help. And when things got messed up, she didn't try and fix it. But you don't cut out on your family. You didn't wanna turn out like her, and you didn't. I'm kind of really fucking proud of you for that."

Ian ducked his head. "Honestly? It's easier to be off the meds. So I get why Monica never wanted to take them, especially being married to Frank. The crashes are bad, don't get me wrong. But the highs are... pretty fucking good. That's why I know alone, I'd be off the meds in a minute. But knowing how it affects all of you and Mickey... that's a big deal. And, I mean, at the risk of sounding real soft, what I have with Mickey is good. And I don't want to not have it. It's better than the highs. So, like. You gotta look at your life and decide if it's better than booze, decide if drinking is more important than hurting them. You and me, we ain't that different, not on the inside. You're just so fucking ugly and I'm, well..." 

Cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, Ian looked at Lip and smirked. It seemed to him like Lip was making all of the right decisions, he didn't need Ian to tell him what to do. But Ian had finally been able to dig down to the bottom of _why_ he should stay on his meds and stay pulled together beyond simply 'you're supposed to do this'. Maybe Lip just needed to hear that from him.

"Oh, that's what you think, huh?" Lip reached out and wrapped an arm tightly around Ian's neck, pulling him into a headlock playfully for a minute before releasing him. "Little shit."

He knew Ian was right, about all of it. Being out of control was fun until it wasn't. All you could do to avoid picking up the pieces afterward was to cut and run, or get out of control again. There was no way to ever get your life together for the long haul, to do right by your family for the long haul, until you cut it the fuck out. And Lip wanted to be in this family thing for the long-haul. 

"Man. Did you turn out to be the well-adjusted one? Shit."

"I hate to tell you, but I've always been the well-adjusted one." Ian's half-closed-lip grin was an exact-copy flashback to when he was about fifteen and thought he was the cock of the walk, goofing off with Lip. Married man with a good job or not, he was still a little brother who thought the whole fucking world of his big brother. "Why do you think I ended up bipolar? Being well-adjusted _plus_ this handsome? It wasn't fair to the rest of you. Something had to even the playing field."

Lip smiled, despite himself. "Yeah, well. You might be a little shit, but I'm glad you're happy." 

He waved the hand that was holding the cigarette. "Seems like it's quiet over at your place, now that no one's getting shot up on the block or dealing with your, uh. Favourite father-in-law. You sure you're not bored? Me and Tami could use a date night, if you want some Fred time."

"How about a date weekend?" Ian offered, and then immediately followed up with, "I'm serious."

He and Mickey hadn't been alone with a kid since... well, not ever, really. When they'd had Yev, Svetlana had been around as well. What better way to see if they (read: Mickey) were ready to be parents.

"Hole up for a couple of days," he suggested. "Order in, don't answer the door, turn off your phone. Let us have the kid. I promise not to leave town with him and no money."

"I'm not worried about that," Lip said. "You sure you wanna start out with a whole weekend? I'm not saying you can't handle it, but it's kind of a lot. You know, if you're not used to having a kid around." The idea did have some appeal. Maybe he and Tami could use some time alone where they didn't have a buffer between them. 

"I think Fred would really like that, though," he added. "Big vacation with Uncle Ian. You're gonna spoil him and he's never gonna wanna come home."

"Damn straight I'm gonna spoil him. Shit. My first nephew." Because Chuckie sure as _fuck_ didn't count. Not literally or emotionally. Sorry, kid. "How about this weekend? I work the overnight on Thursday, could come by Friday before dinner and grab him."   
  


"Uh, yeah. Sure." Lip did a mental once-over of his weekend. He did have to work on Saturday morning, but he was pretty sure that Tami was off. He thought they might even still have some coupons for the takeout place a few blocks over, and Carl had given him a USB with a few pirated movies on it just a couple of weeks ago. This could work. 

"Just have to check that Tami doesn't have any plans. You, uh. Need to check with Mickey?"

"Nah," Ian replied. "We've got no plans or anything. He has to work Saturday morning, so that'll give me some alone time with the kid. That'll be fun." 

Plus, it would be good experience, should he be able to stay home with their own kid someday. 

"I better hit the store on my way home, stock up on what we'll need." 

Lip wondered if Ian ought to check with Mickey anyway, not least because Mickey had a bit of a checkered history with babies, but decided that Ian knew best. 

"Yeah, alright. He's still doing that thing where he won't eat it if it's green. You, uh, gonna help me finish with this deck or are you too pumped up about having a toddler ransack your house for a full two days?"

"Shit, Lip. I just volunteered to take your offspring for a whole weekend and you're still putting me to work." But Ian did pick up the safety glasses again and put them back on. "I expect this favor to be returned if Mickey and I ever get an actual house." 

"Yeah, yeah. You got it."

\--

When Mickey got home, he could hear Ian moving around in the kitchen as he tossed his phone and keys onto the shelf by the door.

"Hey," he called, pulling his work shirt off over his head. "It's fuckin' warm out there today. You been out?"

"Don't talk to me about warm," Ian called back. "I was helping Lip put a deck on the back of the house most of the day." He didn't sound overly put out by it, though.

Mickey went into the bedroom to toss the shirt in the general direction of the laundry basket, and grabbed an old Motorhead shirt from the closet to replace it.

"This weekend, I was thinking we could get fucked up, try to sneak into the punk show behind the old Steelworkers Hall," he said. "You know, do some dumb teenager shit again, like we used to. Weather's supposed to be nice."

Coming into the bedroom, Ian leaned against the door frame. "Shit, that does sound good. But we can't, we got plans. We get Fred this weekend. Friday dinner to Sunday lunch."

"We got what?" Mickey finished pulling his shirt on and gave Ian a look as he sat down on the edge of the bed to tug his shoes off. Normally he would be all over Ian in a sweaty shirt, but he was momentarily distracted. "Did you say we have Fred this weekend? Lip's kid? Shit. Is Lip sick?"

"No, no, he's fine. We were just talking and he and Tami need some time. You know, adult only time. So, I told him that we'd keep Fred this weekend for them." 

Ian walked over to the bed and dropped down next to Mickey, kissing his cheek the way he'd taken to doing in greeting when one of them came home from work. "Gives them some private time, gives us some practice. Win-win, right? Was thinking, we have to take him to Waffle House Sunday morning before we take him home."

"You volunteered us to have the kid for the whole weekend? What, date night wasn't enough?" Mickey stood up to pull down his work pants, reaching for a pair of jeans that were crumpled on the floor next to the bed. 

"Was this Lip's idea, or your idea?" Mickey knew exactly what ' _gives us some practice_ ' meant. Ian had been bringing up kids a lot more often lately, and Mickey got the sense that Ian thought that he was not fully on board. 

Still seated, Ian pulled Mickey closer by the belt loops before he could button and zip his jeans and pushed his t-shirt up so that he could kiss his stomach. 

"Well, it started as talking about date night or something, but I figured, you know... they've been going full-tilt for so long. They deserve more than a couple of hours with just enough time for dinner and a fuck. They need time to _talk_. And I thought it would be fun for us. He's a fun kid."

Mickey looked down at him and then, momentarily, up at the ceiling. "Alright," he said, giving in, the way they had both known that he would. "You're lucky I love you." He leaned down to kiss the top of Ian's head. 

"Mm... I _am_ lucky," Ian said, tugging Mickey's jeans a little lower to kiss along the line of his boxers. 

"We gotta babyproof this place or somethin'?” Mickey asked. “At the last family dinner, he tried to eat laundry detergent."

"I already went to the store and got outlet covers, got 'em already put in place. Went ahead and got a beat up high chair at the Goodwill, cleaned it up, too. It'll fit in the closet after he goes home."

_And we can save it for when we need it_ , went unsaid, though Ian figured Mickey would know he meant it.

"Mm, I thought it was the girl scouts who were always prepared." Mickey carded his fingers into Ian's hair, watching him. It was obvious that Ian was excited about this; Mickey wasn't about to rain on his parade. 

"You're not gonna leave me alone with him, though, right?” he asked. “I got my limits."

Looking up, Ian kissed lower, mouthing over Mickey's cock through his boxers after tugging his jeans down. 

"You won't be alone with him, don't worry. You're surprisingly easily convinced about this. And here I thought I would have to sweet talk you."

Mickey closed his eyes for a moment, driven to distraction by Ian's mouth. 

"Yeah, well. You didn't say 'we _have_ to take' the kid for the weekend. You said, 'we _get_ ' the kid for the weekend. There was no talkin' you out of this." 

Besides, he didn't want Ian to think he was on the fence about this kid thing. 

"Did I?" Head tilted back now so that he could look up at Mickey properly, Ian thought back over his word choice. It hadn't been on purpose or thought out; that was just how he felt about keeping his nephew for a couple of days. 

Stroking Ian's hair gently, Mickey added, "And how am I gonna say no when your mouth is so close to my dick, anyway?"

"So, what you're saying is, I don't even need to have my mouth near your dick for you to be cool with it?"  
  


"I don't think that's what I said." Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian. "In fact, since you won't be blowing me for most of the weekend, if anything, you should be blowing me extra." 

"I can blow you over the weekend. Just, you know, quietly and under the covers, after he's asleep. It ain't like Lip and Tami don't do it."

Of course, at home, Fred had his own room and bed that he was used to, wasn't sleeping in what amounted to a portable playpen-type thing in a strange apartment where he might be more likely to wake up. But Ian didn't mention that.

"Besides, I blow you extra pretty much all of the time already."

"Well, I guess I sucked your dick plenty in front of Liam," Mickey reasoned, since he had come to the same conclusion about Fred's sleeping situation as Ian. "It's gonna weird me out if I look over and see him wide awake in the living room, giving me that thousand-yard dead-eyed baby stare. He looks too much like your brother." 

"We won't do it while he's awake," Ian said, laughing now. "Give your husband some credit."

(They'd been married over a year, now, but Ian still found a way to use the word 'husband' at least once a day, to Mickey or someone else.)

"Uh uh," Mickey said. "You get no credit. _I've_ seen most of your siblings mid-fuck and I've cumulatively slept in that house maybe two months over the last ten years. You're all fucking shameless."

"Don't get whiny, now," Ian said, shoving Mickey's boxers out of the way to get his cock out, wrapping his hand around it and starting to stroke. "You know I'm always down to blow you extra."

"Mm," Mickey agreed, exhaling through his nose in a way that made Ian grin. "I do know that."

And Ian's blowjobs were world-class.

"You really think we're gonna be quiet enough not to wake the kid up? Mandy always throws her fuckin' shoes at the wall when she can hear the bed springs going."

"It'll be a challenge," Ian said, his tone conversational, even though immediately after he swiped his tongue over the head of Mickey's cock. 

(Was this married life? he wondered. Conversation and sex at the same time?)

"Let's practice, see how you do."


End file.
